Connects with: Gift of the Dark, River of Blood, Two Hearts & The Libelle Papers
Shadow Girl © May 2022 E. C. Hibbs
Frankfurt-am-Main, West Germany
July 1972
Did light flash in darkness, or was it the other way around? Was silence the norm, or noise, broken here and there by periods of quiet? It didn’t really matter. One or the other. What went up didn’t always come down. I’d learned that a long time ago.
I heard the sounds without listening, and watched the lights without seeing. The heavy beat of the music made my brain rattle inside my skull. All I had to do was stand behind the bar, serve drinks, wipe up, ignore idiots who tried to hit on me. I kept my eyes and voice low, and counted the money as though I were a million miles away. It was an awful job in an awful club, but it paid my rent.
A middle-aged man slumped against the wall. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of him. When had he last showered?
“Hey,” he drawled. “You’re too cute to be working in a place like this, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
I kept quiet. I’d already dealt with three more like him on this shift.
“Hey, are you deaf, or something? I don’t mind if you are. Come and have a drink with me.”
I glowered at him. He was horribly pale, his hair limp and greasy, clothes washed out with age. His eyes pierced straight through me. They were pitch black, without a single speck of colour. He must have taken drugs.
I snatched a cloth and started cleaning the taps. He sniffed deeply, reaching a hand towards me. I scurried away. Luckily, one of the bouncers, Johann, noticed and hurried over.
“That’s enough,” he warned. “Either behave yourself or leave.”
“What’s wrong with talking to a pretty girl?” the man sneered. But, to my relief, he just laughed to himself and disappeared.
“Are you alright, Mina?” Johann asked.
I nodded. “Ja. Danke.”
“Freaky idiot. But what else can we expect in this damn place?”
I didn’t reply. Johann was nice enough, but he wasn’t a friend. I had no friends. I was too strange, and I knew it better than anyone else.
Johann seemed to get the message. He cleared his throat, in the uncomfortable way most people did after speaking to me, and headed back towards the door. I served a group of teenagers at the bar. I shook their cocktails, set up a punch bowl, scraped the foam off head after head of beer. A heavy fug of tobacco smoke filled the air, thick enough to make me cough. I gritted my teeth and imagined the warm bath I’d sink into when I got home.
At least it was my day off tomorrow. I could sleep late. Then do the weekly shopping; buy seven frozen ready-meals to last until next week. And do it all over again.
I withdrew into myself as the orders kept coming. I made eye contact only for as long as I needed to; winced when I saw the drinks spill and glasses shatter on the floor. Waste. We should never waste. Mutter had drilled that into me. I’d only been young, but I remembered those words.
I thought of her, and Vater. I was no longer in the club, but in a house, surrounded by windows crossed with tape. The height of the War. Then came the explosion. All the panes were blown in. Glass sliced across my skin. Rubble buried me as the aircraft droned overhead…
All gone. In the past. Ja, gone.
Finally, the club lights came on, and the bouncers cleared out the patrons. Some protested and tried to order another drink, but I just carried on washing the glasses until they took the hint. Then I cleaned the bar, fetched a mop and bucket and did the same to the floor.
At last, I signed off. I didn’t have a handbag. I only needed my keys and a little emergency cash, which fit nicely in my pocket. No need for a coat, either. It was the middle of summer. Even wearing jeans was almost too much. The denim clung to my skin like shrink wrap.
“Soon, little girl,” I whispered to myself. “Soon, in the bath, strip off and relax…”
“Who are you talking to?” asked Johann.
I looked at my feet. “Nobody.”
I could almost feel his frown like a physical touch. It was nothing I wasn’t used to. A scowl was the typical reaction towards me, but that didn’t make it any less awkward.
“Okay… Well, enjoy your day off,” Johann said.
I nodded once, edged past him and through the door, into the darkness.
I drew in a deep breath. It felt as though my lungs hadn’t opened fully all night. The tiniest glow of dawn lingered in the sky. By the time I got home, the sun would have risen. The joys of July.
My footsteps tapped on the pavement in an even rhythm: the monotony of a shadow’s clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. And repeat.
Crazy. Nobody wanted to be friends with someone who couldn’t bear their stupid small talk, and I couldn’t be bothered with it, just to make others feel comfortable. God knew what the Doktors would say if they ever got hold of me. I’d be taken to a padded room and never let out.
Nein, better to exist like this. Unseen. Head down. A ghost among people. Who cared if it was lonely? I didn’t know any other way to be.
As I walked, I glanced at the nearby buildings. All of them were new. When I was a child, there had been only rubble where they now stood, after the bombs came down. I’d been too young to remember most of it, but that didn’t matter. I could never forget the sound.
I turned onto a path by the riverbank. The place was deserted. Nobody except drunkards were out this late… or should that be early?
The scent of an unwashed body flew up my nose. Before I could turn, a freezing hand clamped across my mouth. I struggled, but couldn’t get free. We stumbled into an alley, and someone spun me around.
Panic shot through my veins like fire. It was the man from the club. He smiled, showing rows of sharp yellowed teeth. What was he going to do to me?
“Keep quiet now, sweetheart,” he said. “I told you I wanted a drink, didn’t I?”
I went to scream, but he slammed my head against the wall. The world went black, and when I opened my eyes, I was on the ground. Time moved slowly. I heard my heartbeat pounding in my head. One arm was above me, my sleeve pulled down, and the man had his mouth in the crook of my elbow.
I tried to roll away, but he grabbed my shoulder and held me still. The stink of him made me gag. He was so cold…
“Nearly done, sweetheart,” he muttered.
“Let go!” I cried. I wanted to yell it, but it only came out as a whimper. I was so tired. What the Hell was he doing to me?
He drew back. His lips were smeared red. Had he drank my blood?
“Danke,” he grinned, then ran a finger over my cheek. “You’ve had a rough time, haven’t you? I saw your memories. Nobody would miss you, would they, poor little girl? Why do you call yourself that, anyway? You’re thirty-two, for God’s sake. Does it make you feel better, to think you’re younger than you are?”
I knew I should run. I should summon whatever strength was left, get free and run as fast as I could. But all my energy was drained. I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone fight off this man.
Nein, not a man. No man would have done what he had, or could feel so unnaturally cold. And those eyes, dark as night… That wasn’t drugs.
“Vampire,” I whispered.
He smiled again. “Clever girl. But nobody would believe you, would they? Not you, crazy little Mina.”
He brushed my hair back.
“Pretty. A shame to see that face go to waste. Why don’t I give you something to spice up your sad little life? You’ll thank me in the end. What woman wouldn’t want to keep her looks forever?”
He pushed my face to the side, and bit my neck. I tried to push him off, but it was like trying to move a truck. When I raised a hand, it just fell back to my side, as though there were no bones in it.
I gasped. There was blackness under my skin… Ink… Mud… Night… and it burned! Acid in my veins, working deeper, to every part of me. It wrapped around my head and squeezed…
My frantic heartbeat turned into the boom of an explosion. Glass flew over my cheeks. I felt blood as the roof came down, and I heard Vater’s scream. There was no sound from Mutter. She was dead before she could even draw a breath. I was going to die, too. He was killing me… Tick tock…
“Hey!”
The man sprang away. The world broke out of its lines. Dim colours floated freely in the air like water across a drawing. I heard a hiss, sounds of a scuffle, then footsteps as someone ran.
I whimpered. Was he coming back? I was going to die here in this alley, among dirt and broken beer bottles. The last thing I would see and smell was that monster.
A figure knelt beside me and touched my neck. I tried to move, but couldn’t. I was a mind trapped in a limp body, as useless as a lump of meat. I just wanted to sleep.
I looked at the blackness in my arm. It was fading now, disappearing before my eyes. And the fingers on my skin felt different. Normal.
“Fräulein? Can you hear me?”
Faint relief washed through me. No, it wasn’t the vampire. That voice was softer, as warm as the hand which now held mine. It didn’t sound like it was from around here, though. Berlin, maybe? It was so hard to concentrate…
My eyes rolled shut. The voice faded away, and so did I.
I heard the sounds without listening, and watched the lights without seeing. The heavy beat of the music made my brain rattle inside my skull. All I had to do was stand behind the bar, serve drinks, wipe up, ignore idiots who tried to hit on me. I kept my eyes and voice low, and counted the money as though I were a million miles away. It was an awful job in an awful club, but it paid my rent.
A middle-aged man slumped against the wall. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of him. When had he last showered?
“Hey,” he drawled. “You’re too cute to be working in a place like this, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
I kept quiet. I’d already dealt with three more like him on this shift.
“Hey, are you deaf, or something? I don’t mind if you are. Come and have a drink with me.”
I glowered at him. He was horribly pale, his hair limp and greasy, clothes washed out with age. His eyes pierced straight through me. They were pitch black, without a single speck of colour. He must have taken drugs.
I snatched a cloth and started cleaning the taps. He sniffed deeply, reaching a hand towards me. I scurried away. Luckily, one of the bouncers, Johann, noticed and hurried over.
“That’s enough,” he warned. “Either behave yourself or leave.”
“What’s wrong with talking to a pretty girl?” the man sneered. But, to my relief, he just laughed to himself and disappeared.
“Are you alright, Mina?” Johann asked.
I nodded. “Ja. Danke.”
“Freaky idiot. But what else can we expect in this damn place?”
I didn’t reply. Johann was nice enough, but he wasn’t a friend. I had no friends. I was too strange, and I knew it better than anyone else.
Johann seemed to get the message. He cleared his throat, in the uncomfortable way most people did after speaking to me, and headed back towards the door. I served a group of teenagers at the bar. I shook their cocktails, set up a punch bowl, scraped the foam off head after head of beer. A heavy fug of tobacco smoke filled the air, thick enough to make me cough. I gritted my teeth and imagined the warm bath I’d sink into when I got home.
At least it was my day off tomorrow. I could sleep late. Then do the weekly shopping; buy seven frozen ready-meals to last until next week. And do it all over again.
I withdrew into myself as the orders kept coming. I made eye contact only for as long as I needed to; winced when I saw the drinks spill and glasses shatter on the floor. Waste. We should never waste. Mutter had drilled that into me. I’d only been young, but I remembered those words.
I thought of her, and Vater. I was no longer in the club, but in a house, surrounded by windows crossed with tape. The height of the War. Then came the explosion. All the panes were blown in. Glass sliced across my skin. Rubble buried me as the aircraft droned overhead…
All gone. In the past. Ja, gone.
Finally, the club lights came on, and the bouncers cleared out the patrons. Some protested and tried to order another drink, but I just carried on washing the glasses until they took the hint. Then I cleaned the bar, fetched a mop and bucket and did the same to the floor.
At last, I signed off. I didn’t have a handbag. I only needed my keys and a little emergency cash, which fit nicely in my pocket. No need for a coat, either. It was the middle of summer. Even wearing jeans was almost too much. The denim clung to my skin like shrink wrap.
“Soon, little girl,” I whispered to myself. “Soon, in the bath, strip off and relax…”
“Who are you talking to?” asked Johann.
I looked at my feet. “Nobody.”
I could almost feel his frown like a physical touch. It was nothing I wasn’t used to. A scowl was the typical reaction towards me, but that didn’t make it any less awkward.
“Okay… Well, enjoy your day off,” Johann said.
I nodded once, edged past him and through the door, into the darkness.
I drew in a deep breath. It felt as though my lungs hadn’t opened fully all night. The tiniest glow of dawn lingered in the sky. By the time I got home, the sun would have risen. The joys of July.
My footsteps tapped on the pavement in an even rhythm: the monotony of a shadow’s clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. And repeat.
Crazy. Nobody wanted to be friends with someone who couldn’t bear their stupid small talk, and I couldn’t be bothered with it, just to make others feel comfortable. God knew what the Doktors would say if they ever got hold of me. I’d be taken to a padded room and never let out.
Nein, better to exist like this. Unseen. Head down. A ghost among people. Who cared if it was lonely? I didn’t know any other way to be.
As I walked, I glanced at the nearby buildings. All of them were new. When I was a child, there had been only rubble where they now stood, after the bombs came down. I’d been too young to remember most of it, but that didn’t matter. I could never forget the sound.
I turned onto a path by the riverbank. The place was deserted. Nobody except drunkards were out this late… or should that be early?
The scent of an unwashed body flew up my nose. Before I could turn, a freezing hand clamped across my mouth. I struggled, but couldn’t get free. We stumbled into an alley, and someone spun me around.
Panic shot through my veins like fire. It was the man from the club. He smiled, showing rows of sharp yellowed teeth. What was he going to do to me?
“Keep quiet now, sweetheart,” he said. “I told you I wanted a drink, didn’t I?”
I went to scream, but he slammed my head against the wall. The world went black, and when I opened my eyes, I was on the ground. Time moved slowly. I heard my heartbeat pounding in my head. One arm was above me, my sleeve pulled down, and the man had his mouth in the crook of my elbow.
I tried to roll away, but he grabbed my shoulder and held me still. The stink of him made me gag. He was so cold…
“Nearly done, sweetheart,” he muttered.
“Let go!” I cried. I wanted to yell it, but it only came out as a whimper. I was so tired. What the Hell was he doing to me?
He drew back. His lips were smeared red. Had he drank my blood?
“Danke,” he grinned, then ran a finger over my cheek. “You’ve had a rough time, haven’t you? I saw your memories. Nobody would miss you, would they, poor little girl? Why do you call yourself that, anyway? You’re thirty-two, for God’s sake. Does it make you feel better, to think you’re younger than you are?”
I knew I should run. I should summon whatever strength was left, get free and run as fast as I could. But all my energy was drained. I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone fight off this man.
Nein, not a man. No man would have done what he had, or could feel so unnaturally cold. And those eyes, dark as night… That wasn’t drugs.
“Vampire,” I whispered.
He smiled again. “Clever girl. But nobody would believe you, would they? Not you, crazy little Mina.”
He brushed my hair back.
“Pretty. A shame to see that face go to waste. Why don’t I give you something to spice up your sad little life? You’ll thank me in the end. What woman wouldn’t want to keep her looks forever?”
He pushed my face to the side, and bit my neck. I tried to push him off, but it was like trying to move a truck. When I raised a hand, it just fell back to my side, as though there were no bones in it.
I gasped. There was blackness under my skin… Ink… Mud… Night… and it burned! Acid in my veins, working deeper, to every part of me. It wrapped around my head and squeezed…
My frantic heartbeat turned into the boom of an explosion. Glass flew over my cheeks. I felt blood as the roof came down, and I heard Vater’s scream. There was no sound from Mutter. She was dead before she could even draw a breath. I was going to die, too. He was killing me… Tick tock…
“Hey!”
The man sprang away. The world broke out of its lines. Dim colours floated freely in the air like water across a drawing. I heard a hiss, sounds of a scuffle, then footsteps as someone ran.
I whimpered. Was he coming back? I was going to die here in this alley, among dirt and broken beer bottles. The last thing I would see and smell was that monster.
A figure knelt beside me and touched my neck. I tried to move, but couldn’t. I was a mind trapped in a limp body, as useless as a lump of meat. I just wanted to sleep.
I looked at the blackness in my arm. It was fading now, disappearing before my eyes. And the fingers on my skin felt different. Normal.
“Fräulein? Can you hear me?”
Faint relief washed through me. No, it wasn’t the vampire. That voice was softer, as warm as the hand which now held mine. It didn’t sound like it was from around here, though. Berlin, maybe? It was so hard to concentrate…
My eyes rolled shut. The voice faded away, and so did I.
*
There was no warning. No sirens. I heard, years later, that the only reason it happened to us was because some British idiot had misread a map. Instead of aiming for the city centre, they had bombed the outskirts. In any case, over a thousand people died that night.
Glass. Dust. Tick tock. Where was I?
Arms under my back and knees. Someone was carrying me. They had found me beneath the rubble. Four years old, and I was the only one in the entire street who had survived.
My neck hurt, and my arm. Shrapnel? Ja, that was the right word. And I could smell something. Sharp, like bleach. Antiseptic… and then, beep, beep…
I opened my eyes and cried out. There was a light overhead. It was as though I had looked straight into the sun. I tried to move again, but hands appeared on my arms.
“Nein!” I shrieked. “Let go!”
“It’s alright, Fräulein! You’re safe. You’re in hospital.”
It wasn’t the voice I’d expected. It was a woman, and instead of stale sweat, I caught a hint of perfume.
I squinted. She was dressed all in white, with a cap balanced on her hair: a nurse. Everything was white, everywhere I looked. I was even wearing a white gown under white sheets. Bandages encased my neck and elbow. The beeping came from a nearby heart monitor, trailing wires onto my chest.
That sound was connected to me. It was my heartbeat. That meant I was alive.
“What’s your name?” the nurse asked. “You didn’t have any identification with you. Can you tell me who you are?”
I gritted my teeth. It was a simple enough question, but what if that man came back for me?
“It was a vampire!” I said frantically. “I don’t want him here! Where is he?”
The nurse blinked. My heart sank. That was exactly the same expression I’d seen on Johann and everyone else, ever. The other people on the ward were staring as well. I felt their eyes, like drills, grinding into me, judging me.
“I’m sure he wasn’t a vampire,” said the nurse, as though she was talking to a child. “Now, can you tell me your name?”
I hunched my shoulders. I knew it wouldn’t make me any smaller, but it made me feel as though I was, and that was better than nothing.
“Mina.”
“And your surname?”
I hesitated. Was I being stupid by not wanting to say it? I didn’t trust these four walls or this cherry-scented brunette to protect me. The sun was up now – I could see it through the window – but what about tonight? How soon would it come? I thought of the teeth, of my blood smeared across his lips.
“Schmidt.”
It was a lie, but I didn’t care. There were millions of people with that name. I just needed to keep it up for as long as it took to get out of here. Then I’d withdraw all my money, pack my tiny flat into a suitcase, and jump on the next train to someplace else.
The fake name seemed to work. The nurse scribbled on the chart at the end of my bed.
“Alright,” she said. “You’ve been in here for a couple of days. We’ve had you on IV drips to keep you hydrated. Do you remember what happened?”
“I told you,” I insisted. “It was a vampire!”
The nurse gave me a sympathetic look. “You really had a fright, didn’t you?”
I snarled under my breath. She didn’t believe me. What a surprise. The one time I wanted to be heard, I might as well have shouted gibberish.
Better to shut up. They had me in a regular ward now, but if I kept insisting the truth, they’d take me straight to the psychiatric wing, and then I’d probably never walk through the doors again.
The nurse left me a jug of water, and offered to have some food brought. I kept my eyes fixed on my lap, tracing a pattern over the blanket with my finger. Then I touched the gauze on my neck. Underneath it, I could feel the wound, but it didn’t hurt as much as I’d expected. And that light was so bright. I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands.
The food was a ready-made sandwich – fetched from the hospital café, I assumed. A clock on the wall told me it was two in the afternoon, too early for any substantial meal. Egg and cress. Disgusting.
I opened the cupboard in my nightstand and, to my relief, found my shoes and clothes. They had been laundered and stank of cheap detergent. Atop them were my keys and the money which had been in my pocket. I quickly counted it. Fifty Marks. It was all there.
Visiting hour started, and the ward filled with people. They flocked to the other beds, embraced their loved ones, opened carrier bags and pulled out boxes of treats. Nobody came to me. I knew none would. I couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had hugged me.
I stared out of the window. The view was nothing: just the road which ran alongside the hospital. But a cloud had obscured the sun, and it was less painful to look out there than at the fluorescent strip overhead.
Someone moved at the foot of my bed. I ignored them. Just another nurse, come to check my charts.
“Fräulein Schmidt?”
I blinked. I knew that voice.
I turned my head. A man stood there: a little older than me, with red hair and eyes the colour of ripe chestnuts.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me paying a visit. I’m the one who found you. I brought you here. I’ve been coming every afternoon to make sure you were recovering.”
“Danke, Mein Herr.”
He held out his hand. I recoiled as though it might bite me.
“It’s alright,” he assured. “I’m a friend. My name’s Wilhelm Bernstein.”
I looked at him for a long time, then shook.
“Nice to meet you.”
He perched in the chair at my bedside. The vinyl cushions squeaked as he settled into them. His clothes were casual, but well-made. He had money – more than me, anyway. His skin was pale, and the backs of his hands were marked with a faint rash, as though he had touched stinging nettles.
“Can I bring you anything?” he asked. “More water?”
I shook my head. There was a kindness in his tone, but it made me squirm. It had been so long since anyone had truly made eye contact with me. That meant I wasn’t invisible.
He leaned closer to whisper.
“You don’t have to be scared. I know what happened. I know what that man was.”
My guard flew back up.
“You’re a Doktor, aren’t you?”
“Ja. But not in this hospital.”
I didn’t budge. If it was easy enough for me to give a false name, it was just as easy for him to try and fool me. Had the others sent him over, to set me up? Try to get me talking about vampires again, so they could cart me away to a padded room?
I folded my arms. The alias was one thing, but my greatest skill was keeping people at bay. It was time to use it.
“I’d like to rest now.”
“Fräulein,” Bernstein said gently, “it’s alright. I know the truth.”
“So do I,” I replied. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“I believe it does. I know you’ve been through something very frightening, but you have nothing to fear from me. I’m on your side.”
I snorted. Nobody was on my side.
But Bernstein didn’t take the hint. If anything, he moved even closer. There was no pressure in his eyes, only understanding. But that was just as alien to me. How could he understand? How could he assume to know anything about me? I was nothing. I had always been nothing.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“Only to talk to you.”
“Why? So you can call me crazy? I’ve had enough of that. I don’t want to stay here. I just want to get better and then go home. Leave me alone.”
“Please don’t be upset,” said Bernstein. “I promise, I’m not going to put you at risk. I told you, I have no authority here. I’m just travelling through Hesse, staying a few nights, and I smelled out that vampire. Then I noticed blood as well, and followed, and found him with you–”
I held up a hand. My attacker had stank so badly, I wasn’t surprised, but still…
“You smelled him?”
“It’s… something of a talent of mine.”
“Sniffing?”
“And other things.”
Bernstein glanced around, making sure nobody was watching. Then he unfastened his top button and pulled his collar aside.
I gasped. A pale scar lay on his skin, in exactly the same place as mine.
“I know he was a vampire, Fräulein Schmidt, because I’m one, too.”
I stared at Bernstein in shock. His eyes weren’t black, like the guy who had attacked me. And how could he be here in the daylight with no ill effect?
“You’re mocking me,” I snapped.
“I’m not,” Bernstein insisted. “I can prove it. But if I do, I want you to promise not to scream. I won’t hurt you. You’re perfectly safe.”
He tapped under his eye with one finger. I gasped. The brown iris melted away, swirled around itself, and became blood red.
“See?” he whispered. “And after you were bitten on the neck, did you notice a black liquid under your skin?”
I covered my mouth. “How do you know that?”
“It happened to me, too. A while ago, granted, but it did.”
“But you’re not like him! How?”
Bernstein smiled kindly, and the redness disappeared from his eyes, until there was no trace of it ever having been there.
“There are different types in the world,” he said. “For me, things are a little… well, easier. Listen, would you object if I asked you some questions about what happened? An interview, if you will?”
I pressed myself back against the pillows. “You really aren’t trying to trick me?”
“Not at all. I know this isn’t the most ideal place to talk about this, but I’d rather do it now.”
“While the memories are fresh, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
“Why do you want to interview me? I’m nobody.”
“I’d like to find out more about your experience.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s different from mine. I’ve never had the chance to speak with someone who was turned outside controlled conditions.”
“What does that mean?”
Bernstein’s attention flickered to my neck.
“You didn’t consent to it, did you?” he asked.
I blinked in alarm. “Who would be stupid enough to do that?”
A small smirk formed at the corner of his mouth. “You’d be surprised.”
“You did?” I gasped. “Why?”
“Let’s just say it was expected,” said Bernstein. “Will you tell me what happened? Please? Did you know that man?”
My mouth dried up. I snatched my water and drank it all without pausing for breath. As soon as I laid the cup down, Bernstein filled it again. I regarded him in silence. Even that simple motion was smooth. I’d never seen anyone with such steady hands.
“Are you a surgeon, or something?” I asked.
“Nein,” he replied. “I’m a haematologist, of all things. My expertise is in blood.”
“Isn’t that a little on the nose?”
“It’s just something which has always fascinated me,” Bernstein said.
He laced his fingers together in his lap, waiting for me to respond. I copied his movement. I tried to look into his eyes, but it was almost painful to do so. I couldn’t even remember at what point a simple polite gaze turned into a stare. What did I need to do with my cheeks and forehead to tell the other person that things were fine?
“Nein. I didn’t know him,” I said eventually. “I saw him when I was at work, a couple of hours before. In a club. He must have followed me.”
“Did he give you a name? Any kind of identity?” asked Bernstein.
I shook my head. “No, and I didn’t ask. I just thought he was a creep. There are enough of them about.”
“I’m so sorry it happened the way it did. Did he say anything to you?”
I drank more of the water. “He said he could see my memories, or something.”
Bernstein nodded. “That’s typical. Blood carries memories, you see. When it’s consumed, full vampires can see them.”
I replaced the cup shakily. This was insane. And that was coming from someone who could very easily be declared insane herself.
“Why me?” I muttered. “I didn’t ask for this!”
Bernstein held out a hand. “Mind your volume. I’m afraid there are some who don’t ask for it. But it’s alright.”
Alright? Was he serious? How could any of this be alright? I wanted to curl into a ball and scream until my lungs hurt. I was being stupid. This couldn’t be real. The nurse was right. I was hallucinating. I’d lost blood. Or maybe I was still asleep. I’d wake up on my sofa, on my day off, and all this would have just been a stupid nightmare.
But I knew it wasn’t. In this case, I trusted my own mind enough. I knew what I’d seen. And Bernstein wasn’t going away.
I reached out and grabbed his wrist. He was real. I wasn’t imagining him, and that meant I wasn’t imagining anything.
Bernstein glanced at my hand, then back at my face. Somehow, I sensed he realised why I’d done that.
“Can you tell me anything else?” he asked.
I shook my head. Even if there had been more, I doubted I could have spoken it. Exhaustion was creeping over me like a cold tide. I wanted so badly to be dreaming. Then I could reassure myself that vampires didn’t exist; that I was still a shadow ghosting through life unseen. That I wasn’t…
“I’m going to die.”
I said it with such calmness, I surprised myself. The wound on my neck twinged, as though a needle had been stuck into it.
“You’re not,” replied Bernstein. “Vampirism is rarely fatal.”
“Rarely?”
“It won’t be for you. Listen, I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much information. Could I come back tomorrow? I’ll happily help you, but I know it’s a lot to take in.”
I bit my lip. “Sure. Fine.”
“Do you understand that you’re in no danger?”
I nodded woodenly. I liked his kindness, but how was I supposed to accept it?
“What about him?” I asked.
“I don’t think he’ll come back,” Bernstein said. “After a turning such as yours, they tend to just disappear. There’s no reason to linger.”
He spoke so confidently, I believed him at once. And that shocked me just as much as the subject we were talking about. I didn’t believe or trust anyone except myself. Things were easier that way.
What was I thinking? He was practically a stranger. Was I willing to hang all my faith on someone who had only spoken to me for a few minutes? Was it because he seemed to be like me?
Nein, nobody was like me. I couldn’t find likeness in vampirism. It wasn’t real.
He walked off. I dropped my face into my hands, and curled my fingers until I could feel my nails on my forehead. I pressed harder – enough to imagine that I might somehow tear my skin away, dig down to my brain, crush it and shut everything out. These damn lights, the smell of chemicals, the sound of incessant chatter and the heart monitor… Beep, beep…
I drew the blanket around myself and closed my eyes. I wished I had a Walkman with me, and some headphones, for distraction.
The bite flared with pain. What was I going to do? Bernstein said he was a vampire, and he seemed to be managing fine: walking in the sunlight, a nice guy by all accounts. Could it be the same for me? Wouldn’t he have told me if it was?
When the last of the visitors left, the nurse disentangled me from the heart monitor. Then she took me to a side room and removed my bandages. I watched in the mirror. I expected to see two puncture wounds, like in the movies, but it looked nothing like that. There was just a thin line over my neck, as clean as though it had been made with a razor.
I imagined Bernstein’s. His was completely healed, the scar tissue pale with age, but exactly the same.
I held my breath as I returned to the bed. My mind raced, like the pages of a book flapping in a hurricane. One thought trailed into another before it could become solid enough to grasp.
Sound became a wall of noise. Even with my eyes shut, I still clearly saw, in my mind, all the insanity around me. It wasn’t mine, but the accepted craziness, which claimed that everyone and everything else was normal simply because majority ruled. Majority said that vampires didn’t exist; that it was wrong to talk to yourself, or be sad all the time, or still call yourself a little girl even as a grown woman.
What did they know? The little girl was all which was left. I would keep her, cost what it may. Even as she drifted through the drudgeries of the adult world, working an awful job for awful rent on an awful apartment. Such was life, and normality, and reality, for everyone else. And I was the shadow forced into their parameters. The nobody. The freak. The one who had always been alone.
Maybe if I wished hard enough, it would all stop. I imagined myself back in the body of a four-year old. Memory was fuzzy, so I filled in the blanks where I could.
The house was small, simple, but as homely as possible for the tail end of the War. I was too young to be evacuated; had no older siblings who could have taken me with them to safety. Vater hobbled around with a cane. He’d been in the army for a few years, but had to be sent back when he was shot in the leg. They gave him a shiny medal for his trouble and it hung on the basement door like a trophy. Outside, the flag of the Reich fluttered in a cool March breeze.
The sun went down. Mutter put me to bed, and told me a story until my eyes were heavy. When I next opened them again, it was dark. Mutter and Vater were in bed, too. I couldn’t see them, but I heard the snoring. We all shared a room. Mine had a leaky roof, so Vater had insisted I be moved until he could fix it. But he wouldn’t fix it, not with his leg. Never.
Frankfurt was one of the main targets for aircraft. A city was never completely silent, but compared to modern times, I could have heard a pin drop. No light, no movement, to avoid drawing any attention. That way, the planes would fly straight overhead and miss us. It was hardly a wonder why my brain always replayed this moment: the time when everyone tried to do what I’d done every day since. Be invisible.
Then came the first noise: a low boom which rocked the foundations. It was at the far end of the street. Another came straight after it: louder. And another. I followed them in my mind like dominoes. Vater leapt up, drew a breath.
And then, the fourth bomb fell, into the house next door. The windows exploded. Timber and slate and brick showered over me. Dust flew down my throat and I choked. When I tried to cough, that only made me breathe in more of it. I smelled fire; heard a shriek. The floor broke apart and I fell, still on the mattress, pressed onto it by a beam from the roof. By the time I landed, half a wall had fallen across me.
I wanted to cry, to scream, but I was in too much pain to do anything. Every part of my body hurt. My lungs burned. I felt hot wet liquid on my face, and knew it was blood.
The rubble was packed tightly on all sides, but a small cavity had formed around my torso. I kicked out, trying to discern which way was up and which was down. I realised I was on my back. I moved again, but that made stones tumble over me, and I quickly stopped. If I wriggled, would I close this precious little space and suffocate? I didn’t know. I was too young and too injured to think, but looking back as an adult, keeping still had been the right decision.
I closed my eyes, so I wouldn’t look around and see only darkness. In my head, I hummed a song. It wasn’t much, but it kept me awake.
After what felt like an age, I heard more sounds. Not planes or explosions, but frantic voices and the clatter of debris being shifted. I called out as best I could. Slowly, the scraping came closer, and then something was lifted from my hand. I waved.
“Hurry!” someone shouted. “There’s a survivor here!”
More rubble moved. Daylight streamed into my face and dazzled me. I inhaled as much of the fresh air as my lungs could take. It was filled with dust and smoke, but I didn’t care. Never, before or since, had it smelled so sweet.
A young soldier pulled me free, and held me like a baby in his arms. He told me his name was Tobias. How I remembered that tiny detail was beyond me. But he was kind, and I clung to that as much as I did to his jacket. He had saved me.
He put me in an ambulance. At the hospital, Doktors asked me to open my eyes, but I refused. I liked the darkness. It had been dark in the bedroom, when everything was normal, and Vater and Mutter were there. I hoped that if I didn’t peek, the world could stay in the strange limbo which had taken hold. Then, when I did feel ready to look, my parents would have been found too, and would be waiting for me.
The rim of a mask pressed on my face, and I breathed in thick gas. By the time I came to my senses again, I was washed and dressed, covered in bandages and stitches. A thick length of gauze encircled my neck, and a clock cut itself through the silence.
I pinched my arm, and eased my eyes open. Yes, hospital, as I’d expected, but not the one I’d awoken in after the air raid.
July, 1972. In the middle of the night. And I wasn’t a little girl anymore. Except, I was. I’d always be that lonely little shadow, in the shape of the child who should have died.
I must have fallen asleep. The window was dark; the ward reflected in the glass. I swallowed. My throat was so dry. I felt as though I hadn’t drank anything in days. A band of pressure folded itself around my head.
I looked around. Bernstein had said I’d be safe here. I wanted to believe him, but at the same time, uncertainty whispered silent urgings in my ear. He could have just said that to keep me calm. He had his answers to his little interview now. He’d assured me he would come back, but now the sun had set, what was to stop that stinking vampire returning for me?
He won’t, I thought. Bernstein told you…
I shook my head. Nein, I couldn’t trust anyone, only myself.
Was I of sound mind? I didn’t know. I was so tired, and yet so alert. Life had turned upside down, and the only certain thing was the scar on my neck. I couldn’t bear all this. It was too much. I could almost smell that disgusting man again; feel him holding me down, his teeth sinking into my flesh…
I covered my mouth with my hand so I wouldn’t yelp. I had to get out. I checked the clock: a quarter past ten. I could work with that.
A nurse sat at the desk in the corner, a book obscuring her face. Even so, I could tell she wasn’t the one from before. Her hair was black, and she was thinner. Good. She wouldn’t have seen me raving. She’d have no reason to believe there was anything wrong. I was counting on it.
As quietly as I could, I reached into the nightstand, pushed my money and keys into my jeans pocket, and folded the clothes as tight as they would go around my shoes. Then I got to my feet, concealed the bundle with my body, and stole into the corridor.
The nurse glanced over the top of her book.
“Is everything alright?” she asked.
I nodded, trying to keep myself as inconspicuous as possible.
“Just going to the bathroom.”
The nurse nodded and turned a page. Not wasting a moment, I darted through the door and locked it behind me. I stripped out of the hospital gown, dressed myself and finger-combed my hair in the mirror. I pulled it around my neck, to hide the wound. My widow’s peak stood out sharply against my forehead. Then I turned on the faucet, cupped my hand under the water, and drank. It didn’t do much to cool my burning throat, but it was better than nothing.
As soon as I looked presentable, I opened the door a crack, and stole a glance at the nurse. She was still engrossed in her book. Just a few feet in the opposite direction was the ward exit.
I chose my moment, and walked. As soon as I had slipped outside, I hurried to the elevator and pressed the button. If I moved fast enough, they wouldn’t catch me. Ja, that was the plan. Move silently, head down, mouth shut. Inconspicuous.
After a couple of minutes, I reached the ground floor and strode through the door. It had stopped raining, but the ground was still slick, and on every breath, I caught the humid scent of wet earth. The parking lot floodlights burned to look at, so I turned away, and spotted some payphone booths nearby. I leafed through the directory until I found a taxi service, and slid a couple of coins into the slot.
I didn’t have to wait long before a car pulled up.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“The Hauptbahnhof,” I said immediately.
He didn’t speak again, and neither did I. My throat was so dry, it felt as though it might snap open.
I kept my attention on the window. The streetlamps stung, like sand had blown into my eyes, so I tried to peer past them to the night sky beyond. It was darker than I’d imagined; the orange glows of the city blew it into stark contrast, so not a star could be seen.
Where was that man? Still walking the streets? Had he come by another unfortunate like me? Maybe another quiet woman who he’d taken a fancy to? Had she survived? Or would she be like me, transforming into a monster? Had Bernstein managed to save her, too?
I pushed him out of mind. I couldn’t think about Bernstein, or the other vampire, or anything except myself. I was too close to crazy already.
Soon, we reached the Hauptbahnhof. I paid the driver, then ran up the steps and into the concourse. It was still full of people, hurrying to catch the final trains of the evening. I inspected the money I had left, and glanced at the departures board. Most of them were heading far afield: West Berlin, Furtwangen, even Zürich in Switzerland. But those were all too expensive.
I spotted one bound for Cologne. That was only an hour and a half away, and the cheapest of the lot. It would have to do.
I walked towards the ticket booth, but lights bounced off the floor and sliced through my eyes like a blade. I wheeled away. Why was it all so noisy? Such a wall of sound, pounding into me! Everyone hurried in random directions in a haze of movement and colour. And I could smell something I hadn’t before. Something sweet and hot, which made my throat drier than a desert.
What was happening?
Someone bumped into me. I glanced up, and found myself face-to-face with a long-haired man. He gave me a penetrating stare. I shuddered. His eyes were so dark. Were they black? Or was my mind playing tricks on me?
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
The man didn’t blink, just pursed his lips and strode off. I tried to watch him, but he disappeared around a corner.
Another man walked past, briefcase in hand. As soon as he came close, the smell returned. It was so strong, I almost fell over. What was it? Some kind of aftershave? No, it was too pungent for that. Whatever it was, I just wanted to sniff it, swallow it…
Blackness flickered at the edges of my vision, like a million bats taking flight. I waved my arms, trying to swat them away. It didn’t work. People started to stare. Nein, this was wrong; they would see me…
Panic mounted in my chest. The club could be taxing enough, but there, behind the bar, I could focus on what was in front of me: shaking cocktails and cleaning glasses. Here, there was too much and yet too little. I needed to escape. My blood turned to acid and every nerve became a live wire. My chest was going to cave in, and I would die right here, in the middle of the station…
I heard an explosion. Was it in my head, or real? Did it matter? Soon, the glass ceiling would blow apart and come down on me like rain. My arm would break again. My chest would be crushed again. No, it was already crushing! I couldn’t breathe…
“Fräulein?” someone asked. “Are you alright?”
“Leave me alone!” I snapped.
“Don’t worry, Mein Herr, everything is fine.”
Fingers closed on my wrist. I whirled around, and looked straight into Bernstein’s face.
“I was wondering where you’d gone,” he said, gently, but loud enough for the crowd to hear. Then he lowered his voice. “It’s alright. Take deep breaths.”
I swallowed, winced when pain flared, and gasped for air.
“Nein, nein, slowly. Do it with me. In and out. You’re safe.”
Bernstein inhaled through his nose. I tried to copy him, and in the end, managed to keep pace. He didn’t let go of me for a second. His eyes were brown, completely normal, but held a gravity which seemed to anchor me to the ground.
I gasped. In a strange way, he looked so much like Tobias: that kind soldier who had saved me.
After a few agonising minutes, the panic and flickering receded. All my energy flooded away. I was a bag of bones and skin in the shape of a person, exhausted, and so damn thirsty…
“Why don’t we go?” said Bernstein. “You don’t want to be here, do you?”
Without waiting for an answer, he threw a polite smile to the bystanders, threaded his arm through mine, and steered me outside.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed.
“Come with me. I want to speak to you.”
I was too disorientated to object. He led the way along the road, until we came to a late-night coffeehouse. I winced as the sharp lights beat themselves into my face. At once, Bernstein took me to a booth in the corner, where it was darker.
“Is this better?” he asked, sliding onto the opposite seat.
He pulled a rucksack off his back and wedged it between himself and the wall. I pressed back into the fake leather cushions. It wasn’t much, but I was glad there was a table between us. It was a barrier, and barriers were good.
A waitress approached, notepad and pen in hand. I glanced at the badge pinned to the front of her blouse so I could avoid her gaze. Jocelyn. Nice name.
Then I caught the smell again. It was coming from her. And it definitely wasn’t perfume.
“What can I get you?” Jocelyn asked.
“Coffee. Black,” said Bernstein.
I kept my eyes down. “The same for me.”
Jocelyn scribbled the order and took her leave. I sighed with relief when the scent went with her, but winced when the espresso machine hissed. It sounded as though it was right next to my ear.
“How did you know where I was?” I whispered. “Did you follow me?”
“Yes. I didn’t intend on it, though,” said Bernstein. “I was at the hospital, running some errands. And I thought I smelled you. You do know you can’t leave unless you’ve been discharged, don’t you?”
“I’m a grown woman. I can go if I want to,” I argued. “And I don’t want to stay there.”
“Nobody wants to be in hospital.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s dangerous if I’m there.”
Bernstein laced his fingers together and leaned closer.
“How do you think it’s dangerous?”
I glared at him. “Perfect words. You really are a Doktor, aren’t you? It’s all about how I feel, what I think. But it doesn’t matter if it’s actually true.”
Bernstein shook his head. “I’m simply trying to hold a conversation, and not put words in your mouth.”
“Then why do you keep quizzing me? I told you, I’m nobody.”
“Please tell me why you think it’s dangerous. Do you still believe I’m out to trick you?”
I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m not. I told you, I don’t have any connections with that hospital. Only a few in Berlin will listen to anything I have to say. So I can’t do a thing which concerns you. I can’t prescribe any medications, perform any procedures, or authorise you be taken for psychiatric evaluation. Is that why you’re afraid?”
I shuffled further away. His eyes worked at mine, like warm water lapping against ice. So professional, and yet so calm and inviting.
“Tell me this,” he continued. “What was your plan? Run off, so your turner wouldn’t find you? How would you have managed? Don’t you have commitments here? A job? A home? Do you even have money?”
“I’d have been fine.”
“I’m not so sure. Not that you’re incapable of looking after yourself, but it doesn’t seem like the most solid solution.”
I pursed my lips. He was right. There would have been so many loose ends, impossible to tie up if I’d just left like that. Rationality was a wonderful thing when I could actually grasp it.
Jocelyn returned and deposited two steaming white cups in front of us. For a second, the strange intoxicating scent returned. But when she left again, I realised it went with her. There wasn’t a trace of it on Bernstein.
“If you aren’t connected to the hospital,” I said carefully, “why were you there running errands?”
Bernstein glanced at his rucksack. “Let’s say it was something off the record, but necessary for the likes of me. May I ask you something?”
“Why stop now?”
“Can you smell that?”
I looked straight at him. “Ja. What is it?”
Bernstein sighed. “Blood.”
I gripped the edge of the table so hard, my knuckles cracked.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s fine. It happens to us all. You’re not in any danger.”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Because I want to reassure you.”
“Reassure me? Is that why you’re following me?”
“I’m not following you. It’s just co-incidence that I smelled you tonight.”
“I don’t believe in co-incidences,” I said.
“But you do believe in vampires?” Bernstein pressed. “In everything I’ve told you? I was pleasantly surprised at how well you accepted it.”
“I haven’t accepted it,” I snapped. “How can anyone ever accept it? Forget vampires – I got jumped! That creep could have done anything to me! Maybe sometimes it just pays to be crazy. It’s the normal things which are always hardest to deal with. Or what everyone else decides is normal.”
Bernstein watched me with his soft brown eyes.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said. “But your normal and my normal are very similar now.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right. I bet your normal doesn’t involve scrimping and saving, does it? Or putting up with drunk assholes every night? Or… just trying to stay invisible.”
“No, no,” Bernstein admitted. “But staying invisible is something I’ve had to do all my life. Hiding in plain sight.”
“Because you’re a vampire?”
“And even before that,” he said, with a sudden darkness in his voice. “Fräulein Schmidt, I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“You don’t know me.”
“When was the last time you had someone on your side?”
“I don’t need anyone on my side.”
Bernstein shook his head. “Now I see why you’re afraid. But it’s alright. Please let me help you. I know what I’m talking about.”
“Do you?” I said icily.
Bernstein fixed my eyes for a moment, then he glanced around to make sure nobody was near, and rummaged in the rucksack. I heard something pop, followed by the crackle of plastic. After a few seconds, he slid an empty bottle across to me.
But it wasn’t empty. Hidden from the coffeehouse’s view by his hand, I noticed a red liquid in the bottom. Dark, silky, almost black under the harsh ceiling lamps. I knew what it was at once.
“This is why I was at the hospital,” said Bernstein. “We need to drink it, to keep ourselves under control. But on principle, I refuse to take directly from the bloodstream if I can help it. So, every now and then, I acquire some transfusion bags.”
“Acquire?” I scoffed. “You mean you steal them?”
He nodded. “It’s the lesser of two evils.”
I glanced between him and the bottle, and shook my head.
“You have to,” Bernstein whispered. “It will stop the pain in your throat. And the smell won’t be as overpowering. This is all you’ll need for a month: just two mouthfuls.”
My heart pounded against my ribs. I was still spent from the panic attack, but adrenaline shot through me. It took all my self-control to not leap up and flee back into the street. This couldn’t be real. I couldn’t drink that…
Bernstein dipped his head to catch my eye again.
“Don’t think about it. Just do it quickly,” he said. “Trust me.”
He moved the bottle closer. There was no lid on it, and I caught a whiff of the contents. I licked my lips. It was sweeter than the most succulent food. I’d never be able to walk past a restaurant again.
It pulled at some deep part of me, like invisible fingers plucking a hidden harp’s strings. As I looked at the blood, everything else faded away. I wasn’t even aware of the other people, or the lights, or the sounds of the espresso machine. All I needed to do was lift that rim, and open my mouth.
Before I could think, the bottle was in my hand, and I tilted my head back. I was tasting velvet: the most perfect thing on earth. Then I swallowed.
At once, I felt better. The change was incredible. Within seconds, the pain receded, as did the thirst. But I still snatched my coffee and took a large gulp to wash it down.
Bernstein put the bottle back into his rucksack. I guessed he would dispose of it later, when it would be less conspicuous.
“See?” he smiled. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. I reached up to my neck and ran a finger over the wound.
“I thought you said there would be memories,” I muttered. “When you drink, I mean.”
“You won’t see them,” Bernstein replied. “Only full vampires can.”
“So, I’m not one of those?”
“No. You’re a juvenile. That means the venom – the black stuff you saw after you were bitten – hasn’t made any permanent changes to your body yet. It’s sitting there, relatively dormant, and it will alter things slowly, until you make the final transformation.”
“And then what happens?“ I asked. “I become like you?”
“You didn’t give permission, so not exactly,” Bernstein said. “This is where it gets a little complicated. We’re not sure why consent is so important. There’s a theory that it’s to do with the old folklore of inviting a vampire across a threshold. But if you give consent, like I did, then you have it easier. I can walk in the sunlight, for example, and this is all I have to show for it.”
He wiggled his hand, and I glanced at the rash on his skin. It was redder in places, as though he’d scratched it.
“Life is, for the most part, unchanged,” he continued. “But if no permission is given, like in your case, things are different when the change is complete. Sunlight won’t just be an annoyance. It can seriously injure you. And you’ll have other factors to deal with.”
“Factors?” I repeated. “Like what? Will I be able to smell things, like you?”
“For all intents and purposes, you already can,” Bernstein said. “But it gets stronger. Everything will.”
I sighed. Life could be overwhelming enough before. How was I supposed to manage if this was to be my norm for the rest of it?
I took another sip of my coffee. Bernstein did the same, and we set the cups down at the same time. Then he moved his hand closer and tapped mine. I jumped, but didn’t pull away.
“Unless you don’t want it to get to that point,” he said gently. “You see, at the juvenile stage, it’s reversible. You can go back to the way you were.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
“Ja.”
“How? What do I have to do? I told you, I didn’t ask for this!”
“You don’t have to do anything,” said Bernstein. “But it can only be reversed during the final transformation itself, and only by a full vampire. They’re the only ones who can safely remove the venom.”
“Like you?”
He nodded.
Our gazes didn’t move from the other’s. I could tell he was testing me, to see how far he could go. Imploring me to trust him. And, to my alarm, I wanted to believe him. More than that, I needed to. He had shown me kindness when all others would have turned away. Not once had he looked at me as though I was strange, or wrong, or invisible. It was so unfamiliar, and yet so welcome. So right.
“When can you do it?” I asked. “Please, get it out of me. I don’t want it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Bernstein said. “I can’t say exactly how long, but there’s a way to find out. If you’ll let me take a blood sample, I can test it and get a rough idea. Until then, just make sure you drink a little once every month. And then, when the time gets close, I’ll come back here and make sure I’m nearby, so I can get to you and remove the venom. Life will go back to normal, and you can forget all this ever happened.”
I scoffed. Forget? I never forgot anything.
“It sounds too good to be true,” I admitted.
“Sometimes, it isn’t,” said Bernstein. “Sometimes life just throws you a line. If this is what you want, Fräulein, then take it.”
I shook my head. “How do you know all this? I’m no Doktor, but this doesn’t seem like something people like you would talk about.”
Bernstein smiled, more to himself than me. A flicker of uncertainty passed across his face, but then it vanished.
“Ah, what the Hell,” he muttered. “It’s not, strictly speaking. But in my family, it’s different. We’ve researched the condition for over two hundred years. Every single generation has consented to become vampires ourselves, so we can carry on the work.”
My mouth fell open. “Two hundred years?”
Bernstein nodded. “It almost ended in the War, though. My father was the one who developed the blood test for figuring out how long a juvenile period can last. Josef Mengele and Bruno Weber somehow managed to get wind of it. We had to go into hiding in Switzerland for years. I spent my entire childhood there. I didn’t actually see Germany at all until 1956. But my parents weren’t comfortable about coming back until Weber was dead. They didn’t want anything to do with the regime. They refused to harm anyone for the sake of science. There’s been enough of that.”
He drank again, and swirled his cup so the dark coffee sloshed against the porcelain.
“So you see why I know what it’s like, to stay invisible. But that doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now. In any case, the research is why I’m here. Hesse and Frankfurt are just part of a larger trip I’m taking through Germany, from Berlin to the Black Forest. And it’s why I wanted to speak with you. I didn’t expect to run into you the way I did, but I knew it was a chance I couldn’t pass.”
“So… I’m just part of your research?” I asked quietly.
Bernstein ran his tongue over his lips. “Well, I’d also like to be friends.”
I stiffened. “I don’t have friends.”
“Me, neither. At least, none who I can speak openly to like this.”
“Nein, you don’t understand. I’m not the best person to be friends with.”
“Why? Are you still afraid?”
“You saw me before, in the station.”
“You had a panic attack. It’s fine.”
My hands curled into fists. “No. Look, I told you. I’m crazy. Everyone knows it. I can’t say from one day to the next, how I will be. You’re better staying away from me.”
Bernstein didn’t even blink. “I thought you’d say that.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because it takes more than a panic attack to frighten me.”
“I hallucinate. I talk to myself.”
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“I thought you said you were a haematologist, not a shrink.”
At that, Bernstein chuckled. “Well remembered. But I don’t believe you’re dangerous, or insane. From where I’m sitting, you’re just a scared woman – understandably so, considering what you’ve been through – who needs to be seen and heard.”
I held a hand on my stomach as though he had punched me. This was ridiculous. I had to be making this up inside my head. I’d blink, or pinch myself, and be on the train to Cologne with only a couple of Marks left in my pocket.
But that didn’t happen. I stayed at the table, Bernstein in front of me, the taste of coffee and blood on my tongue, and his words ringing in my ears. Those eyes were still watching me, unwavering. He meant it.
Before I could stop them, tears rolled down my face. I spun away in shame. But even as I tried to cover myself, I felt the bricks falling out of my wall. He had cracked it. I didn’t know what to do with that kindness; I felt it with the same wariness of holding a hot coal. It would burn me if I let it, hurt me if I allowed him too close. And yet, could I dare to hope?
“This isn’t a good idea,” I insisted.
Bernstein smiled, and handed me a napkin.
“Well, then, let’s just say it’s an idea.”
He waited patiently as I wiped my cheeks. I breathed deep and hard, trying to get myself under control. Nobody saw me cry. I hadn’t even wept after the bomb. I’d been too stunned, too removed from everything around me. I’d just clung to Tobias’s jacket and stared a thousand yards into the distance.
“So, now what?” I asked eventually.
Bernstein downed the last of his drink. “Personally, I’d advise you to go back to the hospital. If they’ve taken you off the heart monitor, they won’t keep you in for long. Another night, maybe.”
“I don’t want to,” I argued.
“One more night,” Bernstein pressed. “They won’t take you to another ward. And I’ll help to sneak you back in without being seen.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Another of your talents?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“Not now. But I will, I promise. And I promise I won’t put you in any danger, or force you to do anything you don’t want to.”
He held out a hand, just like he had when I’d first met him. I looked at it, but I no longer worried it might attack me. It was just a hand, of someone like me. More like me than anyone else.
I shook it.
“Friends?” Bernstein asked.
I nodded. “Friends.”
“Then, I suppose I’d best stop calling you Fräulein Schmidt. Are you alright with Mina?”
I blinked. “You remembered my first name?”
“You’re not the only one with a good memory,” he replied. “Feel free to call me Wilhelm.”
I managed a tentative smile and finished my coffee. I stared at his rucksack as he paid for our drinks. How many transfusion units were inside it? How much did he have to drink? How was I supposed to manage to do what I’d just done, every single month?
Such an onslaught of questions would usually have made me panic, but I was stunned when my heart didn’t even speed up. It wasn’t exactly calmness, but a sense of softness pressing around me: not to restrain, but to support. I hadn’t felt like this for years, not since I’d been tucked into bed by Mutter; wrapped in the long moment of blissful silence before the entire world shattered.
Wilhelm turned back to me, and massaged his right temple with two fingers.
“Shall we get out of here?” he asked. “I’m getting a headache. These damn lights.”
He held the door for me, and we stepped into the street. Even with the streetlamps and blaze of cars, it was wonderfully dark. A warm breeze swept past and lifted my hair.
We began walking, Wilhelm keeping his eyes on the traffic for a passing taxi. I threw him a nervous glance, swallowed my nerves, and tentatively took hold of his hand.
I wasn’t a shadow anymore. Not with him, anyway. Instead, there was something which I’d thought I might never know. Companionship. At long last.
Glass. Dust. Tick tock. Where was I?
Arms under my back and knees. Someone was carrying me. They had found me beneath the rubble. Four years old, and I was the only one in the entire street who had survived.
My neck hurt, and my arm. Shrapnel? Ja, that was the right word. And I could smell something. Sharp, like bleach. Antiseptic… and then, beep, beep…
I opened my eyes and cried out. There was a light overhead. It was as though I had looked straight into the sun. I tried to move again, but hands appeared on my arms.
“Nein!” I shrieked. “Let go!”
“It’s alright, Fräulein! You’re safe. You’re in hospital.”
It wasn’t the voice I’d expected. It was a woman, and instead of stale sweat, I caught a hint of perfume.
I squinted. She was dressed all in white, with a cap balanced on her hair: a nurse. Everything was white, everywhere I looked. I was even wearing a white gown under white sheets. Bandages encased my neck and elbow. The beeping came from a nearby heart monitor, trailing wires onto my chest.
That sound was connected to me. It was my heartbeat. That meant I was alive.
“What’s your name?” the nurse asked. “You didn’t have any identification with you. Can you tell me who you are?”
I gritted my teeth. It was a simple enough question, but what if that man came back for me?
“It was a vampire!” I said frantically. “I don’t want him here! Where is he?”
The nurse blinked. My heart sank. That was exactly the same expression I’d seen on Johann and everyone else, ever. The other people on the ward were staring as well. I felt their eyes, like drills, grinding into me, judging me.
“I’m sure he wasn’t a vampire,” said the nurse, as though she was talking to a child. “Now, can you tell me your name?”
I hunched my shoulders. I knew it wouldn’t make me any smaller, but it made me feel as though I was, and that was better than nothing.
“Mina.”
“And your surname?”
I hesitated. Was I being stupid by not wanting to say it? I didn’t trust these four walls or this cherry-scented brunette to protect me. The sun was up now – I could see it through the window – but what about tonight? How soon would it come? I thought of the teeth, of my blood smeared across his lips.
“Schmidt.”
It was a lie, but I didn’t care. There were millions of people with that name. I just needed to keep it up for as long as it took to get out of here. Then I’d withdraw all my money, pack my tiny flat into a suitcase, and jump on the next train to someplace else.
The fake name seemed to work. The nurse scribbled on the chart at the end of my bed.
“Alright,” she said. “You’ve been in here for a couple of days. We’ve had you on IV drips to keep you hydrated. Do you remember what happened?”
“I told you,” I insisted. “It was a vampire!”
The nurse gave me a sympathetic look. “You really had a fright, didn’t you?”
I snarled under my breath. She didn’t believe me. What a surprise. The one time I wanted to be heard, I might as well have shouted gibberish.
Better to shut up. They had me in a regular ward now, but if I kept insisting the truth, they’d take me straight to the psychiatric wing, and then I’d probably never walk through the doors again.
The nurse left me a jug of water, and offered to have some food brought. I kept my eyes fixed on my lap, tracing a pattern over the blanket with my finger. Then I touched the gauze on my neck. Underneath it, I could feel the wound, but it didn’t hurt as much as I’d expected. And that light was so bright. I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands.
The food was a ready-made sandwich – fetched from the hospital café, I assumed. A clock on the wall told me it was two in the afternoon, too early for any substantial meal. Egg and cress. Disgusting.
I opened the cupboard in my nightstand and, to my relief, found my shoes and clothes. They had been laundered and stank of cheap detergent. Atop them were my keys and the money which had been in my pocket. I quickly counted it. Fifty Marks. It was all there.
Visiting hour started, and the ward filled with people. They flocked to the other beds, embraced their loved ones, opened carrier bags and pulled out boxes of treats. Nobody came to me. I knew none would. I couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had hugged me.
I stared out of the window. The view was nothing: just the road which ran alongside the hospital. But a cloud had obscured the sun, and it was less painful to look out there than at the fluorescent strip overhead.
Someone moved at the foot of my bed. I ignored them. Just another nurse, come to check my charts.
“Fräulein Schmidt?”
I blinked. I knew that voice.
I turned my head. A man stood there: a little older than me, with red hair and eyes the colour of ripe chestnuts.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me paying a visit. I’m the one who found you. I brought you here. I’ve been coming every afternoon to make sure you were recovering.”
“Danke, Mein Herr.”
He held out his hand. I recoiled as though it might bite me.
“It’s alright,” he assured. “I’m a friend. My name’s Wilhelm Bernstein.”
I looked at him for a long time, then shook.
“Nice to meet you.”
He perched in the chair at my bedside. The vinyl cushions squeaked as he settled into them. His clothes were casual, but well-made. He had money – more than me, anyway. His skin was pale, and the backs of his hands were marked with a faint rash, as though he had touched stinging nettles.
“Can I bring you anything?” he asked. “More water?”
I shook my head. There was a kindness in his tone, but it made me squirm. It had been so long since anyone had truly made eye contact with me. That meant I wasn’t invisible.
He leaned closer to whisper.
“You don’t have to be scared. I know what happened. I know what that man was.”
My guard flew back up.
“You’re a Doktor, aren’t you?”
“Ja. But not in this hospital.”
I didn’t budge. If it was easy enough for me to give a false name, it was just as easy for him to try and fool me. Had the others sent him over, to set me up? Try to get me talking about vampires again, so they could cart me away to a padded room?
I folded my arms. The alias was one thing, but my greatest skill was keeping people at bay. It was time to use it.
“I’d like to rest now.”
“Fräulein,” Bernstein said gently, “it’s alright. I know the truth.”
“So do I,” I replied. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“I believe it does. I know you’ve been through something very frightening, but you have nothing to fear from me. I’m on your side.”
I snorted. Nobody was on my side.
But Bernstein didn’t take the hint. If anything, he moved even closer. There was no pressure in his eyes, only understanding. But that was just as alien to me. How could he understand? How could he assume to know anything about me? I was nothing. I had always been nothing.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“Only to talk to you.”
“Why? So you can call me crazy? I’ve had enough of that. I don’t want to stay here. I just want to get better and then go home. Leave me alone.”
“Please don’t be upset,” said Bernstein. “I promise, I’m not going to put you at risk. I told you, I have no authority here. I’m just travelling through Hesse, staying a few nights, and I smelled out that vampire. Then I noticed blood as well, and followed, and found him with you–”
I held up a hand. My attacker had stank so badly, I wasn’t surprised, but still…
“You smelled him?”
“It’s… something of a talent of mine.”
“Sniffing?”
“And other things.”
Bernstein glanced around, making sure nobody was watching. Then he unfastened his top button and pulled his collar aside.
I gasped. A pale scar lay on his skin, in exactly the same place as mine.
“I know he was a vampire, Fräulein Schmidt, because I’m one, too.”
I stared at Bernstein in shock. His eyes weren’t black, like the guy who had attacked me. And how could he be here in the daylight with no ill effect?
“You’re mocking me,” I snapped.
“I’m not,” Bernstein insisted. “I can prove it. But if I do, I want you to promise not to scream. I won’t hurt you. You’re perfectly safe.”
He tapped under his eye with one finger. I gasped. The brown iris melted away, swirled around itself, and became blood red.
“See?” he whispered. “And after you were bitten on the neck, did you notice a black liquid under your skin?”
I covered my mouth. “How do you know that?”
“It happened to me, too. A while ago, granted, but it did.”
“But you’re not like him! How?”
Bernstein smiled kindly, and the redness disappeared from his eyes, until there was no trace of it ever having been there.
“There are different types in the world,” he said. “For me, things are a little… well, easier. Listen, would you object if I asked you some questions about what happened? An interview, if you will?”
I pressed myself back against the pillows. “You really aren’t trying to trick me?”
“Not at all. I know this isn’t the most ideal place to talk about this, but I’d rather do it now.”
“While the memories are fresh, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
“Why do you want to interview me? I’m nobody.”
“I’d like to find out more about your experience.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s different from mine. I’ve never had the chance to speak with someone who was turned outside controlled conditions.”
“What does that mean?”
Bernstein’s attention flickered to my neck.
“You didn’t consent to it, did you?” he asked.
I blinked in alarm. “Who would be stupid enough to do that?”
A small smirk formed at the corner of his mouth. “You’d be surprised.”
“You did?” I gasped. “Why?”
“Let’s just say it was expected,” said Bernstein. “Will you tell me what happened? Please? Did you know that man?”
My mouth dried up. I snatched my water and drank it all without pausing for breath. As soon as I laid the cup down, Bernstein filled it again. I regarded him in silence. Even that simple motion was smooth. I’d never seen anyone with such steady hands.
“Are you a surgeon, or something?” I asked.
“Nein,” he replied. “I’m a haematologist, of all things. My expertise is in blood.”
“Isn’t that a little on the nose?”
“It’s just something which has always fascinated me,” Bernstein said.
He laced his fingers together in his lap, waiting for me to respond. I copied his movement. I tried to look into his eyes, but it was almost painful to do so. I couldn’t even remember at what point a simple polite gaze turned into a stare. What did I need to do with my cheeks and forehead to tell the other person that things were fine?
“Nein. I didn’t know him,” I said eventually. “I saw him when I was at work, a couple of hours before. In a club. He must have followed me.”
“Did he give you a name? Any kind of identity?” asked Bernstein.
I shook my head. “No, and I didn’t ask. I just thought he was a creep. There are enough of them about.”
“I’m so sorry it happened the way it did. Did he say anything to you?”
I drank more of the water. “He said he could see my memories, or something.”
Bernstein nodded. “That’s typical. Blood carries memories, you see. When it’s consumed, full vampires can see them.”
I replaced the cup shakily. This was insane. And that was coming from someone who could very easily be declared insane herself.
“Why me?” I muttered. “I didn’t ask for this!”
Bernstein held out a hand. “Mind your volume. I’m afraid there are some who don’t ask for it. But it’s alright.”
Alright? Was he serious? How could any of this be alright? I wanted to curl into a ball and scream until my lungs hurt. I was being stupid. This couldn’t be real. The nurse was right. I was hallucinating. I’d lost blood. Or maybe I was still asleep. I’d wake up on my sofa, on my day off, and all this would have just been a stupid nightmare.
But I knew it wasn’t. In this case, I trusted my own mind enough. I knew what I’d seen. And Bernstein wasn’t going away.
I reached out and grabbed his wrist. He was real. I wasn’t imagining him, and that meant I wasn’t imagining anything.
Bernstein glanced at my hand, then back at my face. Somehow, I sensed he realised why I’d done that.
“Can you tell me anything else?” he asked.
I shook my head. Even if there had been more, I doubted I could have spoken it. Exhaustion was creeping over me like a cold tide. I wanted so badly to be dreaming. Then I could reassure myself that vampires didn’t exist; that I was still a shadow ghosting through life unseen. That I wasn’t…
“I’m going to die.”
I said it with such calmness, I surprised myself. The wound on my neck twinged, as though a needle had been stuck into it.
“You’re not,” replied Bernstein. “Vampirism is rarely fatal.”
“Rarely?”
“It won’t be for you. Listen, I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much information. Could I come back tomorrow? I’ll happily help you, but I know it’s a lot to take in.”
I bit my lip. “Sure. Fine.”
“Do you understand that you’re in no danger?”
I nodded woodenly. I liked his kindness, but how was I supposed to accept it?
“What about him?” I asked.
“I don’t think he’ll come back,” Bernstein said. “After a turning such as yours, they tend to just disappear. There’s no reason to linger.”
He spoke so confidently, I believed him at once. And that shocked me just as much as the subject we were talking about. I didn’t believe or trust anyone except myself. Things were easier that way.
What was I thinking? He was practically a stranger. Was I willing to hang all my faith on someone who had only spoken to me for a few minutes? Was it because he seemed to be like me?
Nein, nobody was like me. I couldn’t find likeness in vampirism. It wasn’t real.
He walked off. I dropped my face into my hands, and curled my fingers until I could feel my nails on my forehead. I pressed harder – enough to imagine that I might somehow tear my skin away, dig down to my brain, crush it and shut everything out. These damn lights, the smell of chemicals, the sound of incessant chatter and the heart monitor… Beep, beep…
I drew the blanket around myself and closed my eyes. I wished I had a Walkman with me, and some headphones, for distraction.
The bite flared with pain. What was I going to do? Bernstein said he was a vampire, and he seemed to be managing fine: walking in the sunlight, a nice guy by all accounts. Could it be the same for me? Wouldn’t he have told me if it was?
When the last of the visitors left, the nurse disentangled me from the heart monitor. Then she took me to a side room and removed my bandages. I watched in the mirror. I expected to see two puncture wounds, like in the movies, but it looked nothing like that. There was just a thin line over my neck, as clean as though it had been made with a razor.
I imagined Bernstein’s. His was completely healed, the scar tissue pale with age, but exactly the same.
I held my breath as I returned to the bed. My mind raced, like the pages of a book flapping in a hurricane. One thought trailed into another before it could become solid enough to grasp.
Sound became a wall of noise. Even with my eyes shut, I still clearly saw, in my mind, all the insanity around me. It wasn’t mine, but the accepted craziness, which claimed that everyone and everything else was normal simply because majority ruled. Majority said that vampires didn’t exist; that it was wrong to talk to yourself, or be sad all the time, or still call yourself a little girl even as a grown woman.
What did they know? The little girl was all which was left. I would keep her, cost what it may. Even as she drifted through the drudgeries of the adult world, working an awful job for awful rent on an awful apartment. Such was life, and normality, and reality, for everyone else. And I was the shadow forced into their parameters. The nobody. The freak. The one who had always been alone.
Maybe if I wished hard enough, it would all stop. I imagined myself back in the body of a four-year old. Memory was fuzzy, so I filled in the blanks where I could.
The house was small, simple, but as homely as possible for the tail end of the War. I was too young to be evacuated; had no older siblings who could have taken me with them to safety. Vater hobbled around with a cane. He’d been in the army for a few years, but had to be sent back when he was shot in the leg. They gave him a shiny medal for his trouble and it hung on the basement door like a trophy. Outside, the flag of the Reich fluttered in a cool March breeze.
The sun went down. Mutter put me to bed, and told me a story until my eyes were heavy. When I next opened them again, it was dark. Mutter and Vater were in bed, too. I couldn’t see them, but I heard the snoring. We all shared a room. Mine had a leaky roof, so Vater had insisted I be moved until he could fix it. But he wouldn’t fix it, not with his leg. Never.
Frankfurt was one of the main targets for aircraft. A city was never completely silent, but compared to modern times, I could have heard a pin drop. No light, no movement, to avoid drawing any attention. That way, the planes would fly straight overhead and miss us. It was hardly a wonder why my brain always replayed this moment: the time when everyone tried to do what I’d done every day since. Be invisible.
Then came the first noise: a low boom which rocked the foundations. It was at the far end of the street. Another came straight after it: louder. And another. I followed them in my mind like dominoes. Vater leapt up, drew a breath.
And then, the fourth bomb fell, into the house next door. The windows exploded. Timber and slate and brick showered over me. Dust flew down my throat and I choked. When I tried to cough, that only made me breathe in more of it. I smelled fire; heard a shriek. The floor broke apart and I fell, still on the mattress, pressed onto it by a beam from the roof. By the time I landed, half a wall had fallen across me.
I wanted to cry, to scream, but I was in too much pain to do anything. Every part of my body hurt. My lungs burned. I felt hot wet liquid on my face, and knew it was blood.
The rubble was packed tightly on all sides, but a small cavity had formed around my torso. I kicked out, trying to discern which way was up and which was down. I realised I was on my back. I moved again, but that made stones tumble over me, and I quickly stopped. If I wriggled, would I close this precious little space and suffocate? I didn’t know. I was too young and too injured to think, but looking back as an adult, keeping still had been the right decision.
I closed my eyes, so I wouldn’t look around and see only darkness. In my head, I hummed a song. It wasn’t much, but it kept me awake.
After what felt like an age, I heard more sounds. Not planes or explosions, but frantic voices and the clatter of debris being shifted. I called out as best I could. Slowly, the scraping came closer, and then something was lifted from my hand. I waved.
“Hurry!” someone shouted. “There’s a survivor here!”
More rubble moved. Daylight streamed into my face and dazzled me. I inhaled as much of the fresh air as my lungs could take. It was filled with dust and smoke, but I didn’t care. Never, before or since, had it smelled so sweet.
A young soldier pulled me free, and held me like a baby in his arms. He told me his name was Tobias. How I remembered that tiny detail was beyond me. But he was kind, and I clung to that as much as I did to his jacket. He had saved me.
He put me in an ambulance. At the hospital, Doktors asked me to open my eyes, but I refused. I liked the darkness. It had been dark in the bedroom, when everything was normal, and Vater and Mutter were there. I hoped that if I didn’t peek, the world could stay in the strange limbo which had taken hold. Then, when I did feel ready to look, my parents would have been found too, and would be waiting for me.
The rim of a mask pressed on my face, and I breathed in thick gas. By the time I came to my senses again, I was washed and dressed, covered in bandages and stitches. A thick length of gauze encircled my neck, and a clock cut itself through the silence.
I pinched my arm, and eased my eyes open. Yes, hospital, as I’d expected, but not the one I’d awoken in after the air raid.
July, 1972. In the middle of the night. And I wasn’t a little girl anymore. Except, I was. I’d always be that lonely little shadow, in the shape of the child who should have died.
I must have fallen asleep. The window was dark; the ward reflected in the glass. I swallowed. My throat was so dry. I felt as though I hadn’t drank anything in days. A band of pressure folded itself around my head.
I looked around. Bernstein had said I’d be safe here. I wanted to believe him, but at the same time, uncertainty whispered silent urgings in my ear. He could have just said that to keep me calm. He had his answers to his little interview now. He’d assured me he would come back, but now the sun had set, what was to stop that stinking vampire returning for me?
He won’t, I thought. Bernstein told you…
I shook my head. Nein, I couldn’t trust anyone, only myself.
Was I of sound mind? I didn’t know. I was so tired, and yet so alert. Life had turned upside down, and the only certain thing was the scar on my neck. I couldn’t bear all this. It was too much. I could almost smell that disgusting man again; feel him holding me down, his teeth sinking into my flesh…
I covered my mouth with my hand so I wouldn’t yelp. I had to get out. I checked the clock: a quarter past ten. I could work with that.
A nurse sat at the desk in the corner, a book obscuring her face. Even so, I could tell she wasn’t the one from before. Her hair was black, and she was thinner. Good. She wouldn’t have seen me raving. She’d have no reason to believe there was anything wrong. I was counting on it.
As quietly as I could, I reached into the nightstand, pushed my money and keys into my jeans pocket, and folded the clothes as tight as they would go around my shoes. Then I got to my feet, concealed the bundle with my body, and stole into the corridor.
The nurse glanced over the top of her book.
“Is everything alright?” she asked.
I nodded, trying to keep myself as inconspicuous as possible.
“Just going to the bathroom.”
The nurse nodded and turned a page. Not wasting a moment, I darted through the door and locked it behind me. I stripped out of the hospital gown, dressed myself and finger-combed my hair in the mirror. I pulled it around my neck, to hide the wound. My widow’s peak stood out sharply against my forehead. Then I turned on the faucet, cupped my hand under the water, and drank. It didn’t do much to cool my burning throat, but it was better than nothing.
As soon as I looked presentable, I opened the door a crack, and stole a glance at the nurse. She was still engrossed in her book. Just a few feet in the opposite direction was the ward exit.
I chose my moment, and walked. As soon as I had slipped outside, I hurried to the elevator and pressed the button. If I moved fast enough, they wouldn’t catch me. Ja, that was the plan. Move silently, head down, mouth shut. Inconspicuous.
After a couple of minutes, I reached the ground floor and strode through the door. It had stopped raining, but the ground was still slick, and on every breath, I caught the humid scent of wet earth. The parking lot floodlights burned to look at, so I turned away, and spotted some payphone booths nearby. I leafed through the directory until I found a taxi service, and slid a couple of coins into the slot.
I didn’t have to wait long before a car pulled up.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“The Hauptbahnhof,” I said immediately.
He didn’t speak again, and neither did I. My throat was so dry, it felt as though it might snap open.
I kept my attention on the window. The streetlamps stung, like sand had blown into my eyes, so I tried to peer past them to the night sky beyond. It was darker than I’d imagined; the orange glows of the city blew it into stark contrast, so not a star could be seen.
Where was that man? Still walking the streets? Had he come by another unfortunate like me? Maybe another quiet woman who he’d taken a fancy to? Had she survived? Or would she be like me, transforming into a monster? Had Bernstein managed to save her, too?
I pushed him out of mind. I couldn’t think about Bernstein, or the other vampire, or anything except myself. I was too close to crazy already.
Soon, we reached the Hauptbahnhof. I paid the driver, then ran up the steps and into the concourse. It was still full of people, hurrying to catch the final trains of the evening. I inspected the money I had left, and glanced at the departures board. Most of them were heading far afield: West Berlin, Furtwangen, even Zürich in Switzerland. But those were all too expensive.
I spotted one bound for Cologne. That was only an hour and a half away, and the cheapest of the lot. It would have to do.
I walked towards the ticket booth, but lights bounced off the floor and sliced through my eyes like a blade. I wheeled away. Why was it all so noisy? Such a wall of sound, pounding into me! Everyone hurried in random directions in a haze of movement and colour. And I could smell something I hadn’t before. Something sweet and hot, which made my throat drier than a desert.
What was happening?
Someone bumped into me. I glanced up, and found myself face-to-face with a long-haired man. He gave me a penetrating stare. I shuddered. His eyes were so dark. Were they black? Or was my mind playing tricks on me?
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
The man didn’t blink, just pursed his lips and strode off. I tried to watch him, but he disappeared around a corner.
Another man walked past, briefcase in hand. As soon as he came close, the smell returned. It was so strong, I almost fell over. What was it? Some kind of aftershave? No, it was too pungent for that. Whatever it was, I just wanted to sniff it, swallow it…
Blackness flickered at the edges of my vision, like a million bats taking flight. I waved my arms, trying to swat them away. It didn’t work. People started to stare. Nein, this was wrong; they would see me…
Panic mounted in my chest. The club could be taxing enough, but there, behind the bar, I could focus on what was in front of me: shaking cocktails and cleaning glasses. Here, there was too much and yet too little. I needed to escape. My blood turned to acid and every nerve became a live wire. My chest was going to cave in, and I would die right here, in the middle of the station…
I heard an explosion. Was it in my head, or real? Did it matter? Soon, the glass ceiling would blow apart and come down on me like rain. My arm would break again. My chest would be crushed again. No, it was already crushing! I couldn’t breathe…
“Fräulein?” someone asked. “Are you alright?”
“Leave me alone!” I snapped.
“Don’t worry, Mein Herr, everything is fine.”
Fingers closed on my wrist. I whirled around, and looked straight into Bernstein’s face.
“I was wondering where you’d gone,” he said, gently, but loud enough for the crowd to hear. Then he lowered his voice. “It’s alright. Take deep breaths.”
I swallowed, winced when pain flared, and gasped for air.
“Nein, nein, slowly. Do it with me. In and out. You’re safe.”
Bernstein inhaled through his nose. I tried to copy him, and in the end, managed to keep pace. He didn’t let go of me for a second. His eyes were brown, completely normal, but held a gravity which seemed to anchor me to the ground.
I gasped. In a strange way, he looked so much like Tobias: that kind soldier who had saved me.
After a few agonising minutes, the panic and flickering receded. All my energy flooded away. I was a bag of bones and skin in the shape of a person, exhausted, and so damn thirsty…
“Why don’t we go?” said Bernstein. “You don’t want to be here, do you?”
Without waiting for an answer, he threw a polite smile to the bystanders, threaded his arm through mine, and steered me outside.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed.
“Come with me. I want to speak to you.”
I was too disorientated to object. He led the way along the road, until we came to a late-night coffeehouse. I winced as the sharp lights beat themselves into my face. At once, Bernstein took me to a booth in the corner, where it was darker.
“Is this better?” he asked, sliding onto the opposite seat.
He pulled a rucksack off his back and wedged it between himself and the wall. I pressed back into the fake leather cushions. It wasn’t much, but I was glad there was a table between us. It was a barrier, and barriers were good.
A waitress approached, notepad and pen in hand. I glanced at the badge pinned to the front of her blouse so I could avoid her gaze. Jocelyn. Nice name.
Then I caught the smell again. It was coming from her. And it definitely wasn’t perfume.
“What can I get you?” Jocelyn asked.
“Coffee. Black,” said Bernstein.
I kept my eyes down. “The same for me.”
Jocelyn scribbled the order and took her leave. I sighed with relief when the scent went with her, but winced when the espresso machine hissed. It sounded as though it was right next to my ear.
“How did you know where I was?” I whispered. “Did you follow me?”
“Yes. I didn’t intend on it, though,” said Bernstein. “I was at the hospital, running some errands. And I thought I smelled you. You do know you can’t leave unless you’ve been discharged, don’t you?”
“I’m a grown woman. I can go if I want to,” I argued. “And I don’t want to stay there.”
“Nobody wants to be in hospital.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s dangerous if I’m there.”
Bernstein laced his fingers together and leaned closer.
“How do you think it’s dangerous?”
I glared at him. “Perfect words. You really are a Doktor, aren’t you? It’s all about how I feel, what I think. But it doesn’t matter if it’s actually true.”
Bernstein shook his head. “I’m simply trying to hold a conversation, and not put words in your mouth.”
“Then why do you keep quizzing me? I told you, I’m nobody.”
“Please tell me why you think it’s dangerous. Do you still believe I’m out to trick you?”
I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m not. I told you, I don’t have any connections with that hospital. Only a few in Berlin will listen to anything I have to say. So I can’t do a thing which concerns you. I can’t prescribe any medications, perform any procedures, or authorise you be taken for psychiatric evaluation. Is that why you’re afraid?”
I shuffled further away. His eyes worked at mine, like warm water lapping against ice. So professional, and yet so calm and inviting.
“Tell me this,” he continued. “What was your plan? Run off, so your turner wouldn’t find you? How would you have managed? Don’t you have commitments here? A job? A home? Do you even have money?”
“I’d have been fine.”
“I’m not so sure. Not that you’re incapable of looking after yourself, but it doesn’t seem like the most solid solution.”
I pursed my lips. He was right. There would have been so many loose ends, impossible to tie up if I’d just left like that. Rationality was a wonderful thing when I could actually grasp it.
Jocelyn returned and deposited two steaming white cups in front of us. For a second, the strange intoxicating scent returned. But when she left again, I realised it went with her. There wasn’t a trace of it on Bernstein.
“If you aren’t connected to the hospital,” I said carefully, “why were you there running errands?”
Bernstein glanced at his rucksack. “Let’s say it was something off the record, but necessary for the likes of me. May I ask you something?”
“Why stop now?”
“Can you smell that?”
I looked straight at him. “Ja. What is it?”
Bernstein sighed. “Blood.”
I gripped the edge of the table so hard, my knuckles cracked.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s fine. It happens to us all. You’re not in any danger.”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Because I want to reassure you.”
“Reassure me? Is that why you’re following me?”
“I’m not following you. It’s just co-incidence that I smelled you tonight.”
“I don’t believe in co-incidences,” I said.
“But you do believe in vampires?” Bernstein pressed. “In everything I’ve told you? I was pleasantly surprised at how well you accepted it.”
“I haven’t accepted it,” I snapped. “How can anyone ever accept it? Forget vampires – I got jumped! That creep could have done anything to me! Maybe sometimes it just pays to be crazy. It’s the normal things which are always hardest to deal with. Or what everyone else decides is normal.”
Bernstein watched me with his soft brown eyes.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said. “But your normal and my normal are very similar now.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right. I bet your normal doesn’t involve scrimping and saving, does it? Or putting up with drunk assholes every night? Or… just trying to stay invisible.”
“No, no,” Bernstein admitted. “But staying invisible is something I’ve had to do all my life. Hiding in plain sight.”
“Because you’re a vampire?”
“And even before that,” he said, with a sudden darkness in his voice. “Fräulein Schmidt, I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“You don’t know me.”
“When was the last time you had someone on your side?”
“I don’t need anyone on my side.”
Bernstein shook his head. “Now I see why you’re afraid. But it’s alright. Please let me help you. I know what I’m talking about.”
“Do you?” I said icily.
Bernstein fixed my eyes for a moment, then he glanced around to make sure nobody was near, and rummaged in the rucksack. I heard something pop, followed by the crackle of plastic. After a few seconds, he slid an empty bottle across to me.
But it wasn’t empty. Hidden from the coffeehouse’s view by his hand, I noticed a red liquid in the bottom. Dark, silky, almost black under the harsh ceiling lamps. I knew what it was at once.
“This is why I was at the hospital,” said Bernstein. “We need to drink it, to keep ourselves under control. But on principle, I refuse to take directly from the bloodstream if I can help it. So, every now and then, I acquire some transfusion bags.”
“Acquire?” I scoffed. “You mean you steal them?”
He nodded. “It’s the lesser of two evils.”
I glanced between him and the bottle, and shook my head.
“You have to,” Bernstein whispered. “It will stop the pain in your throat. And the smell won’t be as overpowering. This is all you’ll need for a month: just two mouthfuls.”
My heart pounded against my ribs. I was still spent from the panic attack, but adrenaline shot through me. It took all my self-control to not leap up and flee back into the street. This couldn’t be real. I couldn’t drink that…
Bernstein dipped his head to catch my eye again.
“Don’t think about it. Just do it quickly,” he said. “Trust me.”
He moved the bottle closer. There was no lid on it, and I caught a whiff of the contents. I licked my lips. It was sweeter than the most succulent food. I’d never be able to walk past a restaurant again.
It pulled at some deep part of me, like invisible fingers plucking a hidden harp’s strings. As I looked at the blood, everything else faded away. I wasn’t even aware of the other people, or the lights, or the sounds of the espresso machine. All I needed to do was lift that rim, and open my mouth.
Before I could think, the bottle was in my hand, and I tilted my head back. I was tasting velvet: the most perfect thing on earth. Then I swallowed.
At once, I felt better. The change was incredible. Within seconds, the pain receded, as did the thirst. But I still snatched my coffee and took a large gulp to wash it down.
Bernstein put the bottle back into his rucksack. I guessed he would dispose of it later, when it would be less conspicuous.
“See?” he smiled. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. I reached up to my neck and ran a finger over the wound.
“I thought you said there would be memories,” I muttered. “When you drink, I mean.”
“You won’t see them,” Bernstein replied. “Only full vampires can.”
“So, I’m not one of those?”
“No. You’re a juvenile. That means the venom – the black stuff you saw after you were bitten – hasn’t made any permanent changes to your body yet. It’s sitting there, relatively dormant, and it will alter things slowly, until you make the final transformation.”
“And then what happens?“ I asked. “I become like you?”
“You didn’t give permission, so not exactly,” Bernstein said. “This is where it gets a little complicated. We’re not sure why consent is so important. There’s a theory that it’s to do with the old folklore of inviting a vampire across a threshold. But if you give consent, like I did, then you have it easier. I can walk in the sunlight, for example, and this is all I have to show for it.”
He wiggled his hand, and I glanced at the rash on his skin. It was redder in places, as though he’d scratched it.
“Life is, for the most part, unchanged,” he continued. “But if no permission is given, like in your case, things are different when the change is complete. Sunlight won’t just be an annoyance. It can seriously injure you. And you’ll have other factors to deal with.”
“Factors?” I repeated. “Like what? Will I be able to smell things, like you?”
“For all intents and purposes, you already can,” Bernstein said. “But it gets stronger. Everything will.”
I sighed. Life could be overwhelming enough before. How was I supposed to manage if this was to be my norm for the rest of it?
I took another sip of my coffee. Bernstein did the same, and we set the cups down at the same time. Then he moved his hand closer and tapped mine. I jumped, but didn’t pull away.
“Unless you don’t want it to get to that point,” he said gently. “You see, at the juvenile stage, it’s reversible. You can go back to the way you were.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
“Ja.”
“How? What do I have to do? I told you, I didn’t ask for this!”
“You don’t have to do anything,” said Bernstein. “But it can only be reversed during the final transformation itself, and only by a full vampire. They’re the only ones who can safely remove the venom.”
“Like you?”
He nodded.
Our gazes didn’t move from the other’s. I could tell he was testing me, to see how far he could go. Imploring me to trust him. And, to my alarm, I wanted to believe him. More than that, I needed to. He had shown me kindness when all others would have turned away. Not once had he looked at me as though I was strange, or wrong, or invisible. It was so unfamiliar, and yet so welcome. So right.
“When can you do it?” I asked. “Please, get it out of me. I don’t want it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Bernstein said. “I can’t say exactly how long, but there’s a way to find out. If you’ll let me take a blood sample, I can test it and get a rough idea. Until then, just make sure you drink a little once every month. And then, when the time gets close, I’ll come back here and make sure I’m nearby, so I can get to you and remove the venom. Life will go back to normal, and you can forget all this ever happened.”
I scoffed. Forget? I never forgot anything.
“It sounds too good to be true,” I admitted.
“Sometimes, it isn’t,” said Bernstein. “Sometimes life just throws you a line. If this is what you want, Fräulein, then take it.”
I shook my head. “How do you know all this? I’m no Doktor, but this doesn’t seem like something people like you would talk about.”
Bernstein smiled, more to himself than me. A flicker of uncertainty passed across his face, but then it vanished.
“Ah, what the Hell,” he muttered. “It’s not, strictly speaking. But in my family, it’s different. We’ve researched the condition for over two hundred years. Every single generation has consented to become vampires ourselves, so we can carry on the work.”
My mouth fell open. “Two hundred years?”
Bernstein nodded. “It almost ended in the War, though. My father was the one who developed the blood test for figuring out how long a juvenile period can last. Josef Mengele and Bruno Weber somehow managed to get wind of it. We had to go into hiding in Switzerland for years. I spent my entire childhood there. I didn’t actually see Germany at all until 1956. But my parents weren’t comfortable about coming back until Weber was dead. They didn’t want anything to do with the regime. They refused to harm anyone for the sake of science. There’s been enough of that.”
He drank again, and swirled his cup so the dark coffee sloshed against the porcelain.
“So you see why I know what it’s like, to stay invisible. But that doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now. In any case, the research is why I’m here. Hesse and Frankfurt are just part of a larger trip I’m taking through Germany, from Berlin to the Black Forest. And it’s why I wanted to speak with you. I didn’t expect to run into you the way I did, but I knew it was a chance I couldn’t pass.”
“So… I’m just part of your research?” I asked quietly.
Bernstein ran his tongue over his lips. “Well, I’d also like to be friends.”
I stiffened. “I don’t have friends.”
“Me, neither. At least, none who I can speak openly to like this.”
“Nein, you don’t understand. I’m not the best person to be friends with.”
“Why? Are you still afraid?”
“You saw me before, in the station.”
“You had a panic attack. It’s fine.”
My hands curled into fists. “No. Look, I told you. I’m crazy. Everyone knows it. I can’t say from one day to the next, how I will be. You’re better staying away from me.”
Bernstein didn’t even blink. “I thought you’d say that.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because it takes more than a panic attack to frighten me.”
“I hallucinate. I talk to myself.”
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“I thought you said you were a haematologist, not a shrink.”
At that, Bernstein chuckled. “Well remembered. But I don’t believe you’re dangerous, or insane. From where I’m sitting, you’re just a scared woman – understandably so, considering what you’ve been through – who needs to be seen and heard.”
I held a hand on my stomach as though he had punched me. This was ridiculous. I had to be making this up inside my head. I’d blink, or pinch myself, and be on the train to Cologne with only a couple of Marks left in my pocket.
But that didn’t happen. I stayed at the table, Bernstein in front of me, the taste of coffee and blood on my tongue, and his words ringing in my ears. Those eyes were still watching me, unwavering. He meant it.
Before I could stop them, tears rolled down my face. I spun away in shame. But even as I tried to cover myself, I felt the bricks falling out of my wall. He had cracked it. I didn’t know what to do with that kindness; I felt it with the same wariness of holding a hot coal. It would burn me if I let it, hurt me if I allowed him too close. And yet, could I dare to hope?
“This isn’t a good idea,” I insisted.
Bernstein smiled, and handed me a napkin.
“Well, then, let’s just say it’s an idea.”
He waited patiently as I wiped my cheeks. I breathed deep and hard, trying to get myself under control. Nobody saw me cry. I hadn’t even wept after the bomb. I’d been too stunned, too removed from everything around me. I’d just clung to Tobias’s jacket and stared a thousand yards into the distance.
“So, now what?” I asked eventually.
Bernstein downed the last of his drink. “Personally, I’d advise you to go back to the hospital. If they’ve taken you off the heart monitor, they won’t keep you in for long. Another night, maybe.”
“I don’t want to,” I argued.
“One more night,” Bernstein pressed. “They won’t take you to another ward. And I’ll help to sneak you back in without being seen.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Another of your talents?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“Not now. But I will, I promise. And I promise I won’t put you in any danger, or force you to do anything you don’t want to.”
He held out a hand, just like he had when I’d first met him. I looked at it, but I no longer worried it might attack me. It was just a hand, of someone like me. More like me than anyone else.
I shook it.
“Friends?” Bernstein asked.
I nodded. “Friends.”
“Then, I suppose I’d best stop calling you Fräulein Schmidt. Are you alright with Mina?”
I blinked. “You remembered my first name?”
“You’re not the only one with a good memory,” he replied. “Feel free to call me Wilhelm.”
I managed a tentative smile and finished my coffee. I stared at his rucksack as he paid for our drinks. How many transfusion units were inside it? How much did he have to drink? How was I supposed to manage to do what I’d just done, every single month?
Such an onslaught of questions would usually have made me panic, but I was stunned when my heart didn’t even speed up. It wasn’t exactly calmness, but a sense of softness pressing around me: not to restrain, but to support. I hadn’t felt like this for years, not since I’d been tucked into bed by Mutter; wrapped in the long moment of blissful silence before the entire world shattered.
Wilhelm turned back to me, and massaged his right temple with two fingers.
“Shall we get out of here?” he asked. “I’m getting a headache. These damn lights.”
He held the door for me, and we stepped into the street. Even with the streetlamps and blaze of cars, it was wonderfully dark. A warm breeze swept past and lifted my hair.
We began walking, Wilhelm keeping his eyes on the traffic for a passing taxi. I threw him a nervous glance, swallowed my nerves, and tentatively took hold of his hand.
I wasn’t a shadow anymore. Not with him, anyway. Instead, there was something which I’d thought I might never know. Companionship. At long last.